Dear old Dad stories


#1

I am a daddy’s girls and even though my strong headed German dad can drive me up a wall sometimes I can’t imagine him being gone someday. (He’s in his mid 70’s)

I thought those of us close (and maybe not so close) to our dad’s could share some funny or heart warming stories about dear old dad.

One of my favorites is the time we heard a ruckus on our porch about mid-December. My dad went to check and I followed behind him. It turns our a couple of teenagers were making off with our light up Santa Claus. My dad chased them down the street in the snow, in nothing but house slippers and a robe. They dropped Santa and dad brought our rescued Santa home. He wouldn’t light up after that so dad disappeared into the basement with Santa and when he came back up Santa was working again.

You see we had a magic basement. Any toy that got broken you gave to dad and he would disappear into the basement and when he came up the toy was fixed. I had a treasured music box that stopped working. Dad took it to the basement and whe he came up it played again The tune was slightly different but it worked. (I still have it by the way.)

I’ll stop for now and let others share some dad stories.


#2

Lol, the first one that comes to mind for me, is when I was little (really little) my Dad used to take me and my brother and sister on walks with him, me riding on his shoulders, as the youngest.

We were looking at the pretty cloud formations and he sighed and said, “yeah, I had to get up real early to help the Big Guy paint those this morning. The angels were lazy so he said, Charley! Get up and help me with this!” (as if God would need help :stuck_out_tongue: ) He meant it totally as a one time joke looking back at it now, but back then he got 3 little kids (except for the oldest sister, she looked mighty suspicious) look at him like, “Really??” Lol! So he kept the joke going and said that sometimes if the angels overslept God would have him help paint the clouds in the morning, because he was up anyway. :slight_smile: I remember being like 3 or 4 and stretching to look up in the sky at the clouds God and Daddy put together that morning. It’s so funny what little kids can believe. Eventually though, we figured it out and had fun joking about it.

I haven’t thought about that in a long time. I was Daddy’s little girl myself. I got away with a lot as the years went on :smiley: much to my mother’s chagrin, lol.


#3

My dad passed away when I was little, but recently we came in touch with several West Point alumni that graduated with him.
Here are a few things that were said:
"-It was my great privilege to room with __ for a semester, during which time I came to really know and appreciate him. He was a devout Christian whose faith was an integral and evident part of his daily life. He truly was a gentle giant-who happened to be a great wrestler and also to have a great sense of humor-and he will be sorely missed (our loss is heaven’s gain!).

-___ was someone you got to know, at first, from a distance. His quiet way of handling the stresses of school and the military always disappeared deep down under that bear of a body. It was a surprise, then, to find him reading a Bible, or taking time to teach Sunday School to the kids at the Community Chapel on West Point, or panting back, sweat streaked, from a particularly tough wrestling workout, entering the barracks hallway and laughing. Just for the fun of it. That’s what I will most remember about him; stress might be buried deep down inside, but what he loved about life was that it was good. He laughed a lot. He was a gentleman and I, one of many, will miss him.

-Most of my memories of ___ are from wrestling. He was a tireless worker. I never heard him complain. Considering the nature of the sport, that’s quite a feat… His love of country music (the more nasal, the better) often left his roommates wandering the halls, but he gladly tolerated our choice of noise. I don’t ever remember him getting angry."

Here’s another:
" I spent 4 years with __ in a very hot wrestling room. He was as physically tough as they come. To add to his physical talents, he had this wonderful ability to take his English notes in Russian (which was very annoying to us less talented souls, who then had to beg for a double translation, once from Russian to English, and then what the English meant) - I for one miss him."

One more:
“I admired him greatly and he was universally respected by his classmates. Always a smile on his face but he was also a fierce competitor. He had no enemies but many friends. I was deeply saddened at his passing and have thought of him frequently over the years. I know you are justifiably proud of him though there were too few years for you to get to know the many virtues and strengths he possessed. His children and future grandchildren have much to thank for his all too brief stay with us.”

I really would have liked to have had him here longer, but God had other plans!


#4

Aww, what a great thread.

When I was little, dad had never really been around babies before, so my mom has always recounted his attempts at learning how to “play.” His game was called “Dancing on Your Head” and involved placing any object (preferrably a soft toy) on my head and singing offkey “Dancinnnnnn on your head, Dancin, oh dancin, DANCIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN on your heaaaaaaaaaaaaad!” over…and over…and over again. Apparently this little game is what elicited my first smile and eventually my first laugh and eventually baby hysterics over it. When I became a toddler, he would use his fingers to “dance on my head” and even on my wedding day he helped place my veil in my hair and gave it a few quick pats and commented he wouldn’t want it to dance on my head.

Every year at Easter, Dad starts the phone calls about a week or so ahead of time and makes sure everyone will be present for Easter egg dying. He gets wildly competitive about decorating “the best” egg (my mom is the judge) and will sit there for hours with crayons or stickers or holding an egg in dye just to be sure to get the most brilliant color. He hides the eggs for all of us every year and insists on Easter baskets and/or presents. My neice still hasn’t figured out that Grandpa is the one hiding the eggs, so she is always fascinated by how well Dad can point her in the right direction when she can’t find any and her greedy aunts and uncles are running (for some reason we all scream when we do this) around the house, finding one after another.

Dad loves to go out to breakfast and “chat.” When we were little, he would alternate who got to go with him on Saturdays, as he often met a client and would let one of us go with him. We met so many interesting people by doing this. If we were somewhat quiet and polite during breakfast, he would go to the park afterwards and push us on the swings for as long as we wanted. If he didn’t have to meet a client, then all of us would go. As teenagers, he used going out to breakfast as a way to talk to us about what was going on in our lives and stay up to date about school, relationships, teachers, etc.

I remember getting my heart broken around the age of sixteen, just before I was about to leave for college and I felt like my whole world (as I knew it) was ending. I knew I was going to miss my family like crazy, all my friends who weren’t going to college yet, and now this boyfriend who had decided he didn’t want to do the long distance thing. I came home very late, way past curfew, having had arranged with my sister to turn the light off for me (it was a code we had with my parents to let them know we were home, only I knew I wasn’t going to be home til late) and crept into the house. I was barely breathing because I knew little sobs would escape if I even inflated my lungs. My parents’ kitchen is massive, it’s the biggest and the best room in the house, and has always been a very comforting spot. I decided to get a glass of water and the moment my bare foot hit the hardwood, a little lamp in the sitting area clicked on, and there was Dad. He didn’t look mad, just concerned and then I saw his face register my swollen eyes and bedraggled appearance. He folded his paper, walked the length of the kitchen and said, “Come here, you’re still my baby even if you’re an adult to everyone else” and let me cry all over him for about fifteen minutes. He sent me off to bed and never mentioned my missing curfew or tears again. When my mother asked me about that boy, he waved her question away for me and just said, “Oh, I think she’s done with him.” and that was that, and I didn’t have to explain.


#5

My father passed away 2 years ago. He successfully battled cancer about 10 years before he died. My Dad was from Texas originally, 6 feet, 5 inches tall, John Wayne like (when John Wayne died, I had several people I had gone to college with call me and tell me they were not in the least bit worried about America since my Dad was still alive). Dad liked his Jack Daniels - in fact, to him ‘not drinking’ meant having a beer - and one night, during his successful bout with cancer, he had had a few belts. He called me up in the middle of the night, obviously struggling with some deep theological issues (as the Irish are want to do, in the middle of the night after a few belts of Jack Daniels).

“Leslie!”
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Ya know what?”
“What Dad?”
"When I die, If I find out the Priest has been lyin’ and there’s no afterlife, (long pause…wait for the punch line) “I’m gonna be really p***ed off”.

Hang up.

:whacky: :rotfl:


#6

My dad passed away 4 years ago this month. As Christmas approached, Dad and I would go Christmas shopping for my Mom (who also passed away 4 years ago June). We’d make a day of it, go to the mall, look at everything, go to lunch, and talk about everything under the sun. :slight_smile:

We would also go fishing together from the bank or on his raft. :wink:


#7

I got a letter from our parish priest when I was in college. There had been a big snow so that my dad couldn’t work in the woods that day, so he got into his 4-wheel drive to go to Mass that morning. Father said there was a tree down in one direction, so Dad had to go the other way. Then there was a smaller tree down in the other direction, so he took his chain saw out of his pickup and cleared the road. Father said, “And he still made it before communion. Now that’s faith!”

You talk about German dads… my dad is one. He never misses Mass, adoration, or Stations of the Cross if he can make it, even though the whole time he is in church, he looks like a cat in a bonnet. All ritual is a penance to him, even the music and especially the homily (jokes excluded!), but he is always there. Now that’s faith!


#8

I don’t know if this fits into this category, but here goes:

My dad has always been into playing music, was in garage bands in the 60’s and semi-professional rock bands in the early to mid 70’s. Well, last weekend my dad, my fiance, and I were riding together to meet my mom out of state. We were listening to a CD my dad had burned. Had some Poisen, Skynyrd, etc. on it. Then all of the sudden “[font=Arial]House on Pooh Corner” came on. My fiance said to turn it up b/c she liked it, and my dad commented he liked it. All of the sudden my dad says, “Yeah, I used to sing this to Whit to put him to sleep every night from the time he was a newborn baby until he was 3 1/2 or 4.” I about fell over, had no idea. Anyway, that’s my one of my dear old dad moments. [/font]


#9

[quote=wabrams]I don’t know if this fits into this category, but here goes:

My dad has always been into playing music, was in garage bands in the 60’s and semi-professional rock bands in the early to mid 70’s. Well, last weekend my dad, my fiance, and I were riding together to meet my mom out of state. We were listening to a CD my dad had burned. Had some Poisen, Skynyrd, etc. on it. Then all of the sudden “[font=Arial]House on Pooh Corner” came on. My fiance said to turn it up b/c she liked it, and my dad commented he liked it. All of the sudden my dad says, “Yeah, I used to sing this to Whit to put him to sleep every night from the time he was a newborn baby until he was 3 1/2 or 4.” I about fell over, had no idea. Anyway, that’s my one of my dear old dad moments. [/font]
[/quote]

awwwwwwwwwwww


#10

Another story that makes me laugh is my dad trying to teach me how to drive. When my dad is in the car he is the driver. I can count on one hand the times I remember being in a car with my dad growing up when he wasn’t the driver.

I think my dad was more scared than me when he was teaching me how to drive. I would get “Stop! Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop!” and “Slow down! Slow down-slow down-slow down!” He also was obsessive about when parking in a parking space to be exactly centered between the yellow lines. He would make me back up over and over until I was in the center between the yellow lines. A completely humilating experience at 15.

Last year I had to drive my dad to a doctor appt. because he was required to take a seditive before hand for a test they were doing. Even on valium my dad was telling me how to drive all the way there. “You should turn your signal on now.” “You can get in the middle lane now.” “The light is red up ahead.” Finally I grinned at my dad and said “How in world have I managed to drive all these years without you int the car?” He laughed. :smiley:


#11

[quote=rayne89]Another story that makes me laugh is my dad trying to teach me how to drive. When my dad is in the car he is the driver. I can count on one hand the times I remember being in a car with my dad growing up when he wasn’t the driver.

I think my dad was more scared than me when he was teaching me how to drive. I would get “Stop! Stop-stop-stop-stop-stop!” and “Slow down! Slow down-slow down-slow down!” He also was obsessive about when parking in a parking space to be exactly centered between the yellow lines. He would make me back up over and over until I was in the center between the yellow lines. A completely humilating experience at 15.

Last year I had to drive my dad to a doctor appt. because he was required to take a seditive before hand for a test they were doing. Even on valium my dad was telling me how to drive all the way there. “You should turn your signal on now.” “You can get in the middle lane now.” “The light is red up ahead.” Finally I grinned at my dad and said “How in world have I managed to drive all these years without you int the car?” He laughed. :smiley:
[/quote]

What a wonderful story!

We always had lots of cats around while I was growing up. They, of course, would beg at the table. When dinner was done, Dad would pick up the nearest cat/kitten and begin the Kat Concerto! He’d hold their paws like they were playing the piano, and sing “A-ding-a-ding-a-ding…” Cats thought he was nuts!


#12

My Pap, who was like my father since my real one was never around, passed away in 2001 this month. He was a great man and one of the most devout Christians I have ever met. He was from a Irish Catholic family, but raised Methodist, as was I. He married a stubborn German about 20 years his junior. They met right after WWII. They got into some heated arguments but always ended with a big kiss.

Anywho, When he got sick with Cancer, I was with him for some very meanigful moments during his last days. This all happened within one week in early October. He was diagnosed on Aug. 13 and died Oct. 13. The doctors gave him exactly 2 months, and 2 months to the day it was.

I helped him walk out from the porch to the driveway one night after dinner. We walked out as he clutched my arm. We went to the end of the sidewalk and he looked around, as if to admire God’s creation. He took a big breath and said that was enough. We walked back to the house. Once inside, he walked in to the living room where his hospital bed was set, and laid down. He remained there for the next 7 days until he died. Before he died however, he remained lucid for about 3 days after his walk. The very last moment before he slipped into unconciousness, I asked him for one last smile, and for me, he smiled one last time.

He died October 13 at 1:00 a.m. surrounded by his family. On the second day after he went into the bed, he said there was a man on or by his knee, as if watching over him. Maybe an angel.

DXU


#13

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